SOUTH PARK: Up Your Selfie
by Tharpdevenport
Summary: There's an epidemic in South Park and sides will be taken in the battle.
1. Chapter 1

Stan and Kyle walk down a hall toward their lockers in between classes, dodging students as Kyle reads a piece of paper.

"What did you get on yours?" asks Stan.

"A B minus."

"B minus? I thought you studied for it."

"I did," Kyle stops at a water fountain, "but Mr. Krautklinger took off half a grade for being Jewish," Kyle presses the water fountain button and begins to drink.

While drinking, Kyle notices something out of the corner of one of his eyes. He looks left and sees Eric's head close to his, with Eric smiling.

Kyle stops and turns his head to look at Eric, "What are you doing" Kyle asks suspiciously.

"Nothing much, just experiencing life with my good friend Kyle," Eric smiles.

There's a sound effect of a camera taking a picture. Eric stops smiling and moves away. Kyle stops sipping water and turns to look at Eric.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a selfie stick, Kyle," Eric stops positioning it and as he stands in the middle of the hall, he takes a picture.

"I know that. I mean – why the hell do you need one?" Kyle asks.

"Kyle, selfie sticks are like Apple TV, Apple watches, and a set of John Tesh's greatest hits – nobody really needs one."

"An you have one because…?" Kyle retorts.

Kenny stops nearby Stan.

"They're the wave of the future, Kyle."

"You look like a douchebag."

"You're just jealous because I have one and you don't," Eric mocks lightly.

Butters joins them as well.

"Why, that's a mighty fine rod you have there, Eric," says Butters.

"It's a selfie stick, Butters. Yup – it was the longest one they had. I hear size matters. Isn't that right, Wendy," Eric stands aside Wendy as she spins her locker's lock, "size matters," he positions the selfie stick and takes a picture, "Yeah, you like my long titanium shaft, don't you, Wendy?"

"Get away from me, weirdo," she belts out loudly.

"Cool, cool, check you later, Wen'," he then steps back to the group and whispers to them, "She's just jealous, 'cause her shaft isn't as big as mine."

Kyle says with heavy sarcasm, "Ah huh, yeah, that's probably it. Or she thinks you look like a douchebag. Right, Stan?"

"Well, I guess…" Stan says with a little hesitation.

"What – you don't think he looks like a douchebag?" Kyle asks Stan.

"I don't know. Right now they're the wave of the future. Back in the '80's and '90's people used to carry around portable boom boxes since that was the best technology had to offer. Did that make them douchebags?"

"Yes. Total douchebags," Kyle replies bluntly.

Eric comments, "It's okay to be jealous, Kyle. They see me selfying, they hatin'."

"Actually, it's not okay in my religion; envy not," Kyle responds back.

"Ah huh, sure. Whatever, I know what you all think."

They all finish swapping out their books and head to their next classes.

"Keep telling yourself that – maybe it'll come true one day," Kyle says with sarcasm.

"Why, ah, I don't think you look like a douchebag, Eric," says Butters.

"See?" Eric says to Kyle.

Butters continues, "I think you kind of look cool."

Kyle quickly speaks up, "Congratulations, Cartman, you've been deemed 'cool' by Butters. Maybe if you hurry up you can catch Tweek and he can second the opinion."

They enter the classroom and get seated at their desks.

"Figures. In history there's always been men who held back causes. They said nobody would ever want a computer in their house; VHS tape recorders would kill Hollywood; ships would sail off the edge of the world; and Gandhi did whatever it is Gandhi did," says Eric.

"You seriously did not just compare yourself to Gandi," says Kyle.

Mr. Garrison walks into the classroom and shuts the door, "All right class, shut the hell up – it's time to learn shit. Okay, back in the '60's, '70's, and '80's Hanna Barbara made countless animated cartoons marketed toward easily appeased minor intellects such as yourselves. Then in the 1970's the company branched out and tried a live-action series," Garrison turns around to write on the chalkboard as he speaks, "called 'Korg: 70,000 B.C.', it followed the lives of a family of Neanderthals," he puts the chalk down and turns around to see Eric sitting backwards, positioning his selfie stick, "Eric, what are you doing?"

"Me?" Eric asks innocently.

"No, the other fat bastard named Eric; of course you."

"Don't mind me – just takin' a selfie in class," the sound of a camera flashing goes off from the iPhone on the selfie stick.

"What the hell is that thing?" Mr. Garrison asks.

"It's a selfie stick, Mr. Garrison."

"Oh. Well, you look like a douchebag," says Mr. Garrison.

"What? No I don't. It's just something new and different. Did guys who wore biker jackets and slicked back their hair look like douchebags?"

"Yes, total douchebags," Mr. Garrison replies.

"Well, I think I look fine," says Eric, then looking at his photo on the iPhone.

"I imagine most douchebags do. Anyway, this isn't picture-taking time, it's educational time. Can you even spell Korg?"

"Nooo…" Eric says, rolling his eyes.

"Really, Eric – how do you expect to get head in life if you can't spell Korg? As I was saying: the series revolved around Korg, his brother, his wife, and children…"

.

Later that day. Kids pour out of the front entrance doors to the lined up school busses. Eric, in front of Kyle, Kenny, and Stan, lifts his selfie stick up and out front of himself.

"Hey guys, Eric again. Today I'm just-"

"What the hell are you doing, Cartman?" says Kyle.

"Shhh, Kyle, I'm making a selfie video for my youtube channel."

"But you're not doing anything."

"Sorry about that, guys. I'm just headin' onto the bus after a day of hard learning. Heh – a hard day of learning or hardly learning. He he he. Check ya later," he pulls the selfie stick back and stops recording, "Oh, I should totally record the bus trip," he fiddles with the iPhone again and then extends the selfie stick as jhe climbs up into the school bus.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing?" asks the school bus driver.

"Just making a video with my rad selfie stick," Eric replies.

"I don't know, it looks a little douche."

" _Ay!_ "

"Anyway, no photo sticks while riding on the bus," says the driver to Eric.

"Since when?" Eric asks.

"New school policy implemented this afternoon. Sorry."

"Oh, man," Eric grumbles as he walks to a seat, "what is this – NAZI Germany?" he sits.

Kyle comments to him, "I guess you'll just have to restrain yourself to normalcy for one short bus ride."

"Don't you think you're being a little hard on him over it?" Stan asks Kyle.

"No. All selfie sticks do is over stimulate one's already self-important ego and facilitate their need to showcase to everybody how important they supposedly are."

"People have been taking pictures for over a hundred years – how is this any different?" Stan asks Kyle.

"Pictures used to be novelties, then when they became something affordable anybody could own, they became yet another way people captured their history and had something documenting important and interesting moments in their lives. Some photo of you on the beach alone smiling for no reason so you can post about how cool your life is on Facebook, is not the same. A picture of a person and their best friend at some kind of event is a personal keep sake with sentimental value. Some douchebag videoing themselves in WalMart is life-wasting garbage."

"Okay, so it's a little different…" says Stan.

"A little different? A dad passing down his personalized old car he made memories in to his son, is a bonding moment; some douchebag giving his son his self-driving car he rented out as an Uber while he worked, is like getting an un-washed neck tie from Good Will."

"Oh, poor Kyle, I totally wish I could memorialize your butt-hurt with a selfie right now," says Eric.

"Only if you want to memorialize me flipping you off."

"NAZI," Eric says, then turns back around in his seat.

.

A short time later. Stan walks up to the Marsh house and lets himself.

"Hey, dad," Stan says as he passes bt.

"Hey, Stan."

Stan stops, turns around, and walks back to Randy.

"Dad."

"Yeah, Stan?"

"Have you ever owned a selfie stick?"

"Huh – Stan! You shouldn't be talking about such things at your age."

"Why not?"

Randy sees Stan is legitimately confused, "Wait – a selfie stick isn't dirty?"

"No."

"Then what is it? It sounds dirty."

"It's a long metal pole you can attach their phones to so they can record themselves or take a picture of themselves without anybody helping."

"I've never heard of that before. Is that a thing now?"

"Do you think that would make somebody look like a douchebag?" Kyle asks again.

"I don't think so. Does owning a Ford Mustang Shelby even though all you do is go to work and WalMart, make you a douchebag?"

" _Ahhh…_ "

"It's just the newest trend. Used to be timers, now it's sticks," says Randy.

"You're probably right. Thanks, dad," Stan heads upstairs to his room.

Randy contemplates, rubbing his chin, "Hummm … selfie stick…"

.

Kyle sits in his room, doing his homework. He stops and reaches for his iPhone after hearing it alert him about an instant message with some beeps. He picks it up off the desktop and fiddles with it, finding a message from Eric with a picture attachment. He opens it to find a selfie of Eric on the toilet, smiling excitedly.

"Damnit," Kyle exclaims with annoyance, closes I and tosses the phone to the side.


	2. Chapter 2

The boys exit the school bus and head into school as other kids do as well.

"Finally," Eric says and reaches back and removes his selfie stick from his backpack.

"Yeah, can't _just_ be a douchebag, have to be an impatient douchebag," says Kyle with sarcasm.

"Got more sand in your vagina, huh?" Eric mocks him.

"Better than owning a selfie stick," Kyle rebukes.

"Jealousy, thy name is Kyle," says Eric as he finishes attaching his phone to the stick. He leans in toward Stan, Kyle, and Kenny, then gives a thumbs up while smiling and takes the picture. Immediately afterwards he stops smiling and lowers the thumb back down.

They all turn down a hall, heading toward their lockers to drop off un-needed books.

"Guys! Guys!" Butters calls out, jogging over quickly.

"We must walk faster," says Eric.

"Guys, you'll never believe what I have!" says Butters excitedly.

"A hickey…" says Eric in a low voice.

"What, Butters?" asks Kyle curiously.

Butters replies, "A selfie stick!"

"What?" Eric says, dismayed.

"Heh. A selfie stick; you know, Eric, like all the cool kids have," says Kyle to Eric.

"Check this out… " Butters removes it from his backpack, "I got the Magnum size – it's a big black one. I'm thinking about naming it Darth Stick."

"Butters – do you even need a selfie stick?" says Stan.

"Agh! Nobody _needs_ a selfie stick!" Kyle blurts out, aggravated.

"Well, Craig got one," says Butters.

"Craig?" Eric says, increasingly frustrated.

"And Jimmy has one, too," Butters continues.

"Jimmy? What the fuck?" Eric blurts out.

"I hear the local super store is sold out of them, so I guess that's it for now," says Butters.

"Until they get more in," says Kyle.

"Actually, ah, I hear they're discontinuing them," Butter adds.

They shut their lockers and head to their first class of the day.

"It's a little anemic, but I'll classify that as a miracle," says Kyle.

"I've taken twelve pictures so far, but I keep screwing up the timer and photographing my thumb. One time I dropped it by accident. I'm still trying to master my selfe _shui_ , I guess," says Butters.

They enter a classroom and hop up into their desk chairs.

Kyle looks at Butters, "Butters, carefully photographing something amazing at the right moment is an art; holding out your phone set on a timer on a pole for nothing special, is douchebaggery."

Butters replies, "Oh. Ah, what's a douchebag?"

Eric quickly comments, "I swear to God you guys, if you point at me…"

Mr. Garrison walks into the room and shuts the door. Once at his desk he sets his briefcase down and begins the class, "Okay, class, yesterday I outlined the plot and characters of 'Korg: 70,000 B.C.' for you. Today we'll go over the first episode, "Blind Hunter'. While out, Tor stumbled upon a caveman from another tribe who has been temporarily blinded in an accident…"

.

Later that day. The boys sit outside in the grass during recess, playing with their phones instead of playing with themselves or other kids.

Eric connects his phone to his selfie stick and raises it. As he positions it he hears Butters speak up.

"Huh, will you look at that – mine is bigger than yours," Butters comments.

Eric looks over and sees Butters holding up his stick to compare lengths, "Goddamnit. It's not the length of the bat that matters, it's the swing of the batter."

"Oh."

Eric fakes a smile, then stops once the picture is taken.

Butters speaks up again, "But what if the batter is using a ten-inch bat?"

"Shut up, Butters," says Eric.

"Hey, check this out," says Kyle.

"What?" asks Stan.

Stan and the others move into look at Kyle's iPhone.

Kyle speaks as they look, "I was about to nominate selfie stick users to the Douchebag Hall of Fame. It'll take some effort, but they might be able to edge out Harrie Reed."

"Hu hu hu hu hu huh u huh u," Kenny laughs in his muffled voice.

Stan says to Kyle, "Dude, it's just a stick for taking photos. Using something weird doesn't make you a douchebag."

"Really? So, you'd wear one of those Chinese hats that hold toilet paper rolls?" Kyle asks Stan.

"No…"

"Why not?"

"That's different."

"How so?" Kyle keeps pressing.

"…It just is."

Craig walks over.

"Hey, Craig," Kyle says.

"Did you guys hear about Tim's mother?"

"No, what happened?" asks Kenny.

Craig answers, "She bought a selfie stick and when she tested it out in the parking lot, she got struck by lightning!"

Eric exclaims, "Holy crap! I'm glad I have no idea who that is so I don't have to waste a weekend at a funeral."

"That's horrible," says Kyle to Craig.

"Yeah. Well, catch you guys later," says Craig, who then walks off to tell other kids.

"See, Eric? It's a death stick," says Kyle.

"Kyle, if God was gonna smite me, he'd have done it a long time ago."

Stan says to Kyle, "An unsettling but true point."

Butters stands up, "I'm gonna go measure mine against Craig's!"

Kenny snickers.

.

Later that day. The boys exit the school toward one of the parked buses.

"Cartman, if you're gonna take a selfie in the bathroom, do it when I'm not in there," says Kyle.

Eric retorts, "Maybe if you'd have used a stall instead of a wall urinal, that wouldn't be a problem."

"Next time I don't know if I'll be able to control where my stream goes!" Kyle yells out.

"Oh yeah?" Eric yells back.

"Yeah!"

"Stan!" Randy calls out.

"Dad?" Stan says, surprised. He walks over to his dad, seeing him in-between buses. Kenny, Kyle and Eric follow out of curiosity.

"Stan, hop in," says Randy, opening a door.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"Stan, I have a big surprise. Hop in so I can show you. Your friends can come, too – I called their parents."

"Cue impending doom music," says Kyle.

.

Randy stops his car in front of a small shopping strip that has various little stores side-by-side, most of which are vacant. As he gets out, the boys do, too.

Randy blurts out, "Ta da!" putting his arms out as well.

"You drove us out here to see an un-kempt vacant lot?" Stan asks.

"Not just _any_ un-kempt vacant lot, Stan. An un-kempt vacant lot of your future!"

"Your future looks bleak and un-kempt, Stan," says Eric, leaning in and taking a picture of them together with his selfie stick.

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

"You see that empty place behind me? That's ours! They built this strip before the economy was Obamanated and it's been mostly un-rented since then. But I had the foresight to seize this amazing opportunity," Randy turns around and unlocks the entrance doors.

"So, by 'ours' I assume you discussed this with mom?" Stan says, more than asking, as they enter.

"No, don't be silly; Sharon would never have agreed to this if I had asked her in advance."

"I'm sorry – why do I need this?" Stan asks his dad.

Randy looks at them all, "Boys, brace yourselves – I've struck while the iron was hot to leverage an amazing opportunity. I give you…" Randy grabs onto a bed sheet covering some shelves, "Up Your Selfie!" he rips the sheet off and boxes fall to the floor.

"Whoa, selfie sticks!" Eric looks at the boxes and takes a picture of himself hovering over them, with his selfie stick.

"Damnit!" Randy bends over and picks boxes up and places them back on the shelf.

"Selfie sticks?" Kyle says in an annoyed voice.

"Up Your Selfie is South Park's premiere store specializing in selfie sticks."

"But that's only ten boxes," Stan notes.

"Yeah, but that's all the store had. Now residents can buy them from me. With a fifteen percent markup. My first supply from my distributor will arrive Tuesday. And maybe I can rent out VHS tapes here."

" _ **No!**_ " Stan yells.

"Okay, okay. Geez. Ah, hey Stan, could you do me a favor?" Randy asks him.

"I'm not telling mom for you," Stan shoots back.

"Damnit. So, what do you kids think?"

Nobody says anything for a few seconds. Then Eric breaks the silence.

"Well, Mr. Marsh, I think it's an awesome idea. You're clearly hip and with it," he then holds out his selfie stick and takes a quick picture with Randy (who quickly smiles).

"Sweet – I'm 'hip' _and_ 'with it'!"

Stan comments, "So, you have a product, but you're not open yet?"

"Stan, signs are expensive. Have you seen the prices of signs lately?"

"I'm ten, so no."

"Well, they are. So I made this," Randy reaches into one of pants' pockets and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it as he walks to one of the large storefront windows, then pulls a roll of tape out and rips off a piece and tapes it to the glass. "Damnit, some of it stuck to my hand. Hate it when that happens."

Stan and Kyle exchange knowing glances.

"What does it say?" Kyle asks.

"Up Your Selfie. Now Open," Randy answers.

"Dad, this seems like a really bad idea."

"Stan, people want selfie sticks. It's a thing – I saw it on youtube."

"Yeah, Stan, get with it," Eric mocks Stan.

"Clearly something is wrong if Cartman is 'with it'," Kyle comments aloud.

Eric says to Kyle, "It's basic evolution, Kyle. People are born with it, eventually they get it, and as they get older they lose it."

Kyle responds, "One: that's not how evolution works, two: you do realize you age, too?"

The door opens an in steps a man. Randy stops trying to get boxes on the shelf perfectly straight with the shelves edge; he walks over quickly.

"See, Stan? Yes, sir – how can I help you?"

"Is this Up Your Selfie," asks the man.

"Yes, sir, South Park's premiere selfie stick buying experience."

"Excellent, it's about time this town had a selfie stick store."

"Right on. I take it you partake in the selfie arts?" Randy asks.

"You could say I'm a selfie rod connoisseur," the man replies.

"Rod?" Randy asks.

"Oh, 'rod' is what we who take it seriously call it. I'm proud to say I'm a rod man."

"More power to the rod," Randy says, making a fist.

"No, we don't do that," the man corrects Randy.

"Sorry. What kind of rods do you like?"

"I like my rods thick and long. The extra length makes for better pictures. There's nothing like a long firm rod in your hand."

"Whuwhuwhuwhuwhuwhuwhu," Kenny laughs, grabbing his stomach in laughter.

"Oh, I thought length didn't matter," says Randy.

"Of course length matters. Us rodders know that. Long rods, thick rods, rods ribbed for our holding pleasure, and almost as important: a special rubber grip so you're always holding a warm rod; there's nothing worse than a cold shaft."

"So, what are you in the market for?" Randy asks the man.

"I've been wanting an ultra-titanium double-length Jeremy. Hard to come by."

"Ummm. Let me see…" says Randy, looking over the small amount of boxes he has, "no, still only have just these."

"I'll take that one," says the man.

"Excellent choice. Ah, which one was that?" Randy asks.

"Oh, anyone will do. I love having rods I've never had before. Life would be pretty boring if I couldn't hold as many different rods as possible."

"I hear that. Okay, that'll be $13.28," Randy rings it up on the cash register.

"Here you go," says the man after fishing some money out of a pocket.

Randy hands over the change, "Thanks for your business, mister … ahhh…"

"Dennis."

"Come again!" Randy waves as the man walks off.

The man exits the shop.

"See, Stan? That's how you do business."

"By opening a store you can't afford and selling a product you know next to nothing about?" asks Stan.

"You'll understand when you're older."

"Are you at least advertising?" asks Stan.

"Oh crap – I forgot that part."

Eric says to Stan, "Stan, this product practically sells itself. Though a little advertising never hurt anything."

Randy ponders, "Hum, I guess I'll have to think about that. Let me drive you kids home – I'm sure you have homework to do."

Randy opens the door while the boys walk out. They talk as they walk to the car; Randy locks up.

"I can't believe your dad is the purveyor of douchesticks," Kyle says to Stan.

"Kyle," Eric points, "a war is coming. You're either for selfie sticks or against them. Chose."

"Oh, fuck – not another war," Kyle says, annoyed.


	3. Chapter 3

The boys head into school the next day after exiting the bus. Various kids start taking out selfie sticks, stopping in the walkway to snap photos. The four boys start weaving through the kids blocking the way.

"'cuse me. Right, continue standing there like a jackass – that's exactly what I meant by 'excuse me'," says Stan.

"Out of the way you selfie-centered douchebags," Kyle says, shoving them.

"Move!" Kenny says, highly annoyed.

Eric yells out, "Hey, assholes – move it or lose it!"

Kyle replies quickly, "Ohhh, so when they do it they're assholes, but when you do it you're a trend-setting hip kid?"

"That's different," says Eric.

"How?"

"It just is."

Kyle looks around, "Oh, sweet friggin' Jesus – they're completely blocking the entrance doors."

"Move it, douchebag!" Eric says angrily.

"Ohhh, so he's a douchebag for using a selfie stick," says Kyle to Eric.

"No, he's a douchebag because he's Butters."

"What…?" Butters turns around, confused and still holding his selfie stick.

"Please just get out of the way," Kyle says to kids.

"Yeah, please move before we're _all_ late," says Stan.

Eric says to Kyle and Stan, "That was your first mistake: trying to reason with them. Here's how you deal with them…"

Eric pulls out his selfie stick and begins whapping each of them on the head, "Take that! And that! Before I skull fuck the all of you! And you get one, too!"

"OW!" says the kid.

"But that kid didn't do anything," Kyle says to Eric.

"I was on a roll," Eric replies back.

They finally enter the school.

"Amazing. They're not even fifty yet and they've already mastered the Wal-Mart shopper technique. But I'm sure the irony isn't lost on you, Cartman, that this is what you wanted," Kyle says to Eric.

Eric rolls his eyes slightly, "Yes, unlike you I _embrace_ change, Kyle. **GODDANJIT GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY OF MY LOCKER!** " Eric bellows, balling his fists and squinting his eyes shut. Multiple kids lean in with their selfie sticks and snap a quick one of Eric's sudden rage.

Craig walks up to them, "Hey, did you guys ear about Mickey and his parents?"

"What?" asks Kyle.

"His dad bought a new selfie stick and took his wife and son out to test it in a field. When he held it up, lightning struck him and electrocuted them all to death."

"Oh my God!" says Stan.

Eric says non-chalantly, "No, can't say I've heard of him or his Kentucky Fried Parents. And that's another Saturday I don't have to waste."

"Wait, Stan, you don't think…" says Kyle.

"Come on, fellas, or we're gonna be late," says Butters.

"Butters is right – we'll have time to think later after school."

They head to class, dodging some kids still posing for selfie pictures. Victoria looks on as kids pass her.

"Oh my," she says.

"I'll say," says Mr. Garrison, "You think those things have a vibrate setting?"

Mr. Krautklinger walks by, holding a black and red selfie stick out in a NAZI salute.

The kids settle into their seats for the first class of the day. A couple take selfies. Mr. Garrison walks in and shuts the door.

"All right, you Neanderthals, settle down. Today we'll discuss the genius of the Korg family, Korg himself. Perhaps the first ancestor smart enough to earn the equivalent of a Mensa membership…"

The four of them start talking in a low voice as Mr. Garrison goes on.

"So, how'd your mom react?" Kyle asks Stan.

"He hasn't told her yet."

"Ew, not gonna end well. I think you and I can skip aby future classes on marriage – already getting plenty of lessons from your mom and dad," says Kyle.

"Broflovski! Does ancient history bore you?" Mr. Garrison yells out to Kyle.

"No, sir."

"then quiet down and listen up, 'cause Neanderthal man left no written records of his history, just some bones, tools, and burial mounds. Their story is based upon assumptions and theories drawn from those artifacts. It might have happened in seventy-thousand B.C.."

"Yeah, ah, that's interesting," Kyle says with a little sarcasm.

"Then shut up so you can learn about it. Anyway, every time a problem was encountered that had never been before, without any base knowledge what-so-ever or even an internet search engine, Korg would figure out how to solve it, from utilizing a fulcrum – after discovering it – to creating a net. Today I thought we'd expand the history lesson by watching another episode," he turns on a TV on a cart and inserts a DVD into a DVD player, "Now, in this episode the Korg family must search for a new cave after … Craig, what are you doing?"

Craig puts his selfie stick up after attaching his phone to it, "Taking a selfie of me watching Korg for Facebook."

"No. No selfies while watching the show. They didn't have selfie sticks in 70,000 B.C.!"

"They didn't have TV's or DVD players either," says Craig.

"I don't care. I'm the teacher and I can be a hypocrite if I want to."

.

Meanwhile, at the Mayor's office…

McDaniels sits back in her main office chair, reading Mayor Monthly as a mechanical arm with a pen in its grip is signing papers as an aide switches papers out, "This autopen is amazing. I can't believe how much I can get done by not doing anything. I don't know what exactly it is I'm doing, but I'm getting things done."

Johnson speaks up, "Pardon me, misses Mayor, but might there not be numerous consequences to the town's people based on all these laws and ordinances you aren't reading?"

"Who cares; we'll pass more laws to fix them when the time comes. What's next?"

"The next one is a request from the Crotchety Old Citizens that are Kaput Society."

"Fuck, not them again. More whipper snappers on their lawns I supposed."

"Not this week. No, this time they're complaining about something called a selfie stick."

McDaniels replies, "I don't know, it sounds like old people and something dirty – do I wanna know?"

"They say they're being terrorized by youngsters 'gallivanting about' town and local businesses with sticks that have phones on the end, taking pictures."

"Oh! Is that what those things are? I say some adults using them yesterday; I just thought more people were using canes. If grownups and kids are using them, that's current and future voters, so I can't ban them. Wait, crap – there wasn't' a ban bill in the autopen pile, was there?"

"I don't think so. Probably not. Half a no," says Johnson.

"I know – we'll put a selfie stick tax on each stick sold and tell those C.O.C.K.S. we're giving them more money."

"For what?" asks Johnson.

"I don't know, be vague about it – they'll fill in their own blanks. In a few days most of them will become befuddled and forget we even promised them anything. Problem solved!"

"Another brilliant move, Mayor," says Johnson, as Ted keeps putting papers in for the autopen.

McDaniels continues, "And then the autopen will sign it. Then afterwards we'll go see a movie and order a pizza."

Both of her aides smile and high-five each other.

.

Later that day. The kids get out of the class and head for the final one of the day. They pass by Principal Victoria, who observes them.

"I still don't understand why she couldn't just get on the raft when it was obviously safe," says Kyle.

"Hey, guys," Butters walks up to them.

"What?" Eric turns around and his selfie stick whacks Butters aside his head.

"Ow!"

Victoria then looks in another direction. Craig and another student clang selfie sticks together by accident.

"Don't cross the sticks," says Craig.

Mr. Mackey, passing by, stops aside her.

"Principal Victoria, everything okay?"

"More kids are carrying those picture sticks," she replies.

"Oh, it's probably just another fad. It'll die out soon enough, like bellbottoms and 3-D."

"You're probably right, but in the meantime somebody is going to get hurt. And a number of students have been late to classes because they're wasting their time taking pictures and posting them to social media rather than exchange books for classes and use the restroom. Not to mention all the kids who didn't get permission to be photographed. I think a school-wide ban might be needed."

"I supposed so; bellbottoms never hurt anyone. Well, except Donny back in junior high, who stepped on one, tripped, and fell into traffic and was brutally killed by an oncoming truck. But other than that."

.

Later that day, after dinner and shortly before bed.

We see Eric in a user box on Omegle. He starts polishing his metal selfie stick with some stainless steel polish in a rag. He vigorously slides the rag up and down it, just out of sight of her camera. A guy appears in the other box.

"Hey," says Eric.

The box goes black from being skipped. Another guy appears.

"Hey. Hey. I said _hey_. Damnit," he curses as he's nexted again.

Another guy appears, this time in a Spider-Man mask.

"Hey. You got a microphone? Don't shake your head 'No' at me – I can hear you typing. Hey, web slinger – you wanna see my rod?"

Eric get frustrated as he's skipped yet again.

Eric waits. After several seconds a couple of teenage girls sitting on a bed appear in the box.

"Hey, girls, I see you like rods, too. I think I got something that will please both of you," a couple of seconds after starting to raise his selfie stick, he's skipped again. "Goddamnit, stop fucking nexting me!"

Within a few seconds another person appears, this time Craig.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers. Hey, Craig.

"Cartman."

"So, you like selfie sticks, too?"

"Yes," Craig replies, his right arm going up and down, too.

"Good, good. You're the first person not to next me. So, polishing your rod?"

"No, I'm masturbating."

"Agh! Goddamnit, Craig!"

"What? I'm multitasking."

"Not with me you're not, "Eric nexts Craig.

A woman pops up.

"All right," says Eric.

She looks down and thinks Eric is masturbating as well, and nexts him. The screen goes white.

"What the fuck? I've been banned by Omegle for repeated violations of blah, blah, blah and I have to click on what is offensive material from the following images? So, let me get this straight: If I'm being banned for possible offensive material, I have to look at actual offensive material to get back on? Sweet, the only thing that could make this better is if they paid me," he starts clicking on photographs.

.

Randy lies in bed, partially naked, with a small black Playgirl cover over his special area. Sharon, also partially naked, climbs atop him, cowgirl style. On her a silky translucent pink gown and nipple tassels.

"You ready to do this, bad boy?"

"Oh, I'm ready. Ride 'em, cowgirl…" he answers.

After shaking her nipple tassels some, she caresses his chest some, then makes out with him. Things get how as they repeatedly kiss. Randy rubs his hands up and down her back.

"Ohhh…" moans Sharon.

"Ahhh…" moans Randy.

"Oh, Randy…"

"Oh, Sharon…"

"Randy…"

"Sharon…"

"Randy… Randy?" she pulls back when she only feels one hand on her back and the other nowhere else. "Where's your other…"

"Huh?" he leans up, kissing the air.

"Randy!" she yells, seeing a selfie stick in his free hand, holding up his phone above them, trying to take a picture.

"That? Oh, ah … ah, it's for research."

"Research?"

"Yeah, don't mind that – I just need to test out the rod."

"Number one: you have your phone on it; number two: research for what?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I opened a selfie stick store. Now, I'm horny, let's fuck."

"A what?"

"We discerning people call them rods, actually."

"Oh, lord, not this again!" she rolls off him.

"So, does this mean we're not gonna do it?"

"Why do you always do this to us?" Sharon asks, pissed off.

"Do what?"

"Open up money-losing businesses without consulting me!"

"I didn't know I needed to consult you on a guaranteed a money-making opportunity. Aren't you over exaggerating just a little bit? I don't do it _that_ often."

"Really? What about your Blockbuster video franchise?"

"It was just a bad time; mark my words, in-store movie rentals will come back just like LP's."

"Or that LaserDisc store back in the 1990's?"

"That would have worked if it wasn't' for DVD's. And VHS tapes."

"Or that store you tried to lease so you could start a Zales?"

"I just wasn't timely on it, that's all."

"One month after they filed for bankruptcy."

"Yeah, too bad about that; I liked Zales."

"And then there was also that time you thought: why sale encyclopedias door-to-door when you can just open an encyclopedia book store!"

"It's not my fault people are lazy and would rather you come to them."

"It's a pattern, Randy!"

"This time is different, people want this item; it's hot now."

"So were pet rocks."

"I've already sold some."

"How many?" she asks.

"Just ten or so. My first shipment of stock doesn't arrive until tomorrow."

"So you opened a store without product?"

"When you say it that way, it sounds stupid."

"It is! I want you to call the leasing agent and tell them you'll finish the month out, then close it; I don't want to lose any more of our savings then we're going to.

"Gawd, you're such a negative nancy. How about _we_ wait until the end of the month, and if business isn't booming, then I will shut it."

"Okay."

"But if it's going well, I – I mean _we_ – get to keep it open."

"That's fair. I certainly wouldn't want a profitable business to shut."

"Wait until you see what's gonna happen tomorrow."

"Oh, lord, what?" she says, losing confidence suddenly.

"I'm filming a commercial for our store. We'll invite Stan's friends over, have a family fun night. Only with no pizza. Or snacks. Or soda. And I'll primarily be having all the fun. But they get to watch, so that might be fun."

.

The sun shines down on South Park as the first buses arrive at South Park Elementary. A look of shock and horror spreads to a lot of kids faces as they are removing their selfie sticks and notice a sign on each entrance door that reads: No Selfie Stick Use Inside the School.

" **NOOOOO!** " Eric bellows.

"Oh, well, I guess everyone will have to do what they were doing inside the school a week ago," says Kyle.

"They can't do this to us! What is this? NAZI Germany?" Eric says angrily to anybody who will hear.

"Not listening, already entering," says Stan.

"You guys can't leave me yet – who will I bitch to?" Eric asks them.

Butters speaks up, "Why, ah, how about everybody else, Eric?"

"The _pleabs?_ "

"Fuck you, dick nose, I'm not a pleab," says Craig as he walks by.

"You get a waiver, Craig. Like the 'dick nose' thing."

"What about me?" asks Butters, standing at the entrance, holding a door handle.

"Fresh out of waivers. Hold the door open for me."

"Okay. Let me know when you get more waivers in."

"Sure, sure," says Eric as he walks in.

Tweek holds his selfie stick out an entrance door as h stands inside, taking a last-second selfie, "Oh, Jesus!"

.

They sit in the first class of the day, waiting for Mr. Garrison to enter.

"Thanks a lot, Cartman," says Stan, annoyed.

"You're welcome. What did I do?"

"Thanks to you we have to spend an afternoon watching my dad shoot a commercial instead of playing video games after finishing out homework. Now all there'll be time for it homework," says Stan.

Kenny and Kyle both say in unison, "Awww."

"Excuse me, but do you _want_ your father to fail?" says Eric.

"That's not what I said," says Stan.

"Oh, poor me," Eric mocks Stan, "I don't get to play video games because my dad us trying to help my family earn a living. Wah."

"Fuck you, fatboy, I'm sure my dad's commercial will go over gangbusters!" pointing at Eric.

"Whoa," Eric says sarcastically, "I guess your dad is too big to fail."

"The only thing 'too big' around her is you," Stan retorts.

"Ay!"

Everyone in class laughs at Eric. Mr. Garrison enters the class room.

"All right, put a Korg in it. Get it? I said 'Korg' instead of 'cork'. Anyway," he says after all the kids merely blink quietly, "with only one episode left, let's re-examine what we've learned. Anyone?"

"Korg was unusually faithful?" says Craig.

"Good, Craig. Survival in 70,000 B.C. was a daily struggle and only guaranteed by having as many children as possible, which meant impregnating as many women as possible, whether they wanted to do not."

"Strength in numbers?" says a random kid.

"Correct, random nameless kid. Neanderthals would likely have formed into what we know as tribes, to assure survival, food from hunt, and battling invading tribes. Kyle?"

"Bergess Meredith was a good actor in his career, but the narration was almost completely un-needed?"

"Very good, Kyle."

"What about you, Jimmy, I'm sure you learned something," says Kyle.

"Oh, fu – I mean, go ahead, Jimmy," Mr. Garrison relents.

Jimmy responds, "We-well, now that … now that … thaaat y-youy mentioned it, I-I-I th-th…"

Kyle speaks in a low voice to the group, "Good, that should take a while. So, how do we play video games?"

"If we try really hard and use every change between classes and in the bathroom, and in the car on the way to the shoot, we might just have enough time to play over an hour. Is he still talking?" asks Stan.

They stop whispering.

"… when K.K-Kooorg, when Kooooorrrrrg…"

"Yeah, still goin'. Any other suggestions?" asks Kyle.

"We wuuu wu wu uw," says Kenny.

"Great thinking, Kenny," says Eric.

The intercom speakers crackle on.

"Attention students, attention students: Please report to the gym for a short assembly on new school rules, m'kay?"

The intercom whines and shits off.

"Oh, thank God," says Mr. Garrison as Jimmy is speaking.

.

Kids chatter as they sit on the gym bleachers, waiting as the final school students seat themselves. When all sat, Mr. Mackey speaks at the microphone pole.

"Thank you all for coming. This morning at the start of school we received nearly three dozen angry comments on the school's Facebook page in regards to the new policy on selfie stick use inside the school. Out of those, only one was positive, from Kyle Broflovski, quote, 'Good. Tell everybody I said that.', end quote. The rest were most decidedly un-positive: UoYours2 wrote 'Fudge yourself, you NAZI fudge packers,' only the anonymous commenter said something other than 'fudge'. I. 2 wrote, 'Eat my … explicative … and die, commie explicative eater'."

"Heh, heh, heh," Eric laughs.

"AnitaFokU2 wrote: 'Bend over and' … no, can't read that part. 'So you can take my selfie stick and' … oh, dear – I don't think that's even physically possible."

Again Eric chuckles lowly more, "Heh, heh, heh…"

Kyle takes note, looking pissed.

"1ManDickArmy wrote: 'I'm gonna take my big master blaster and' … well now, that's just completely inappropriate. And Senn6666 posted … well, that's just disgusting and has no place in civilized online discussions, m'kay. Anyway, that's just a sampling. Further investigations showed they were all dummy accounts set up today or recently to specifically troll other Facebook profiles; like online Lefty protestors. While we suspect it's just one angry and bitter student, just to be on the safe side, we're holding this gathering. I'm now going to yield the floor to Principal Victoria," Mr. Mackey steps aside.

"And that foul attempt at humor involving the late misses Chockesondick, was totally inappropriate," says Victoria.

" _Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!_ " Eric laughs more loudly.

"There were multiple reasons for the new rule. One: tardiness. There were frequent late arrivals to classes, which caused disruption."

Kyle raises a hand.

"This really isn't the section for taking questions, but all right, ah…"

Mr. Mackey leans in, "Kyle Koflovski."

"Kyle," she then says, since she so rarely sees him she doesn't recall his name.

"Would you say this was due to vanity?"

"Ah, maybe, I guess," she answers.

Eric raises a hand, too.

"Eric Cartman."

"Principal Victoria, wouldn't you say that it could maybe be just a difference in a person's taste?"

"Well, maybe, I guess."

Kyle's hand immediately shoots back up.

"Kyle."

"Isn't it a fact that if you are taking your own picture for no special occasion but rather to post it online and share it with a bunch of strangers to brag about how supposedly awesome your life is, that it is indeed vanity?"

"Can't say I disagree with that description, but continuing: two: safety. We've had some bumps on heads, scrapes, and two or three times students walked into each other. And three: privacy. People used to move aside if you took a picture; now they don't even know you're doing it until you've snapped it. We can't have these disruptions to the learning environment. Any questions?"

Eric raises a hand quickly.

"Any questions at all, aside from Eric Cartman?" Victoria asks.

Victoria scans all the students again but only sees Eric's hand.

"Oh very well. Eric?"

"so, technically the playground is outside the school, right? We can still use out rods there, correct?"

"Yes."

"Victory!" Eric pumps a fist.

"While still on school grounds, we can't prevent little nicks and bumps you children give yourselves. Knock yourselves stupid for all I care. However, if parents start complaining, they'll be banned totally from school premises."

Eric looks pissed off and gives Victoria a NAZI salute.

"Oh, and they're banned from the busses to the entrance doors," she adds.

"AGH – son of a—''

"That's all."

Eric again quickly raises a hand.

"Dismissed," she says, ignoring Eric purposefully.

All the kids start talking and leaving the gym.

"NAZI's, guys. NAZIs!" says Eric.

"Oh, no, where?" Butters looks around nervously.

Random kids point at Eric.

"Ay!"

.

Later that day, during recess. Kyle, Kenny, and Stan hide as best they can amongst the other children in the playground. As they chat, Eric suddenly finds them.

"Hey you guys, there you are. I couldn't wait to show you my rod bling."

"Oh, God, please tell me you didn't decorate your penis," Kyle says, holding out his hands in advance in potential disgust.

"Check this out," he pulls a half-sized selfie stick from a pants pocket. He presses a button and the selfie stick begins extending, swiveling around as it starts rising like a turtle head from its shell. "As you can see, I took a bunch of fake Bedazzler crystals and covered the handle using a hot glue gun."

"It looks like shit," says Kenny.

"Hey! This thing cost over seventy dollars – it does not look like shit! I painted the whole extending half in glow-in-the-dark paint so it can double as a lightsaber – that is not shit!"

"I guess. So, do you want to have a lightsaber duel?" asks Kyle.

"With this? Are you crazy? It cost me over seventy bucks. And I know it's cool, 'cause my fellow rodders all agree with me."

"Ahhh, so … who are these 'rodders'?" asks Kyle.

"Fellow selfie stick connoisseurs."

"…who are?" Kyle asks again.

"Ones who partake in the selfie arts," Eric replies.

"And their names would be?"

Eric looks annoyed for two or three seconds at Kyle's question, then responds, "Craig, Jimmy, Timmy, Charly Sheen, Mimsy, and Butters. Also, Stan's dad."

"I never said my dad was cool. Nice try."

"Wait a minute … seventy bucks? You wouldn't spend that kind of money on anything unless you really got lots of satisfaction out of it or you stood to gain from it. And I know some stupid douchebag stick for taking your own photo isn't giving _you_ the kind of satisfaction that's self-gratifying enough to warrant the cost."

"Kyle, couldn't a guy just enjoy fancy accessories?"

"The day you're just a guy enjoying things like other normal people, perhaps," says Kyle.

Eric puts his phone on the selfie stick and holds it out, standing next to Kyle.

He naps a photo of an angry-looking Kyle, "I'll call this one 'Skeptical'."

.

Eric, Kenny, and Kyle ride in the backseat of Randy's car, after school; Stan rides up front in the passenger seat.

"Thanks again, Mr. Marsh," says Eric, smiling.

"It's no problem. Glad you kids could come."

"If our stupid parents hadn't made us…" Kyle says quietly under his breath.

"Oh, did you kids here? Mr. Littleton died while taking a selfie."

"Let me guess: lightning," says Kyle.

"No," Randy replies.

"See, Kyle?" Eric shoots back.

"He was standing on a business roof top and lost his balance while positioning his rod. Mrs. Roddenstein was killed by lightning while fiddling with her rod."

Kyle asks Randy, "Mr. Marsh, have you ever noticed how many people have been killed by lighting since selfie stick use took off in town?"

"No, not really. I'm sure it's purely coincidental."

"Kenny, would you like to buy my old titanium rod?" asks Eric.

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"Keeeneeey…" Eric tries persuasively.

"No way!"

.

The boys stand out front of Randy's store as Randy lays a tripod down and fiddles with his iPhone.

"Here, let me set the tripod up for you," says Kyle.

"Oh, thanks, Kyle," says Randy.

"Getting in the spirit?" Stan asks Kyle.

"Every minutes saved in an extra minute of game time."

"I can't figure out how to get this damn thing to record video," Randy says aloud.

"Here, let me help you with that," Stan quickly grabs the phone from dad.

"And sync my Bluetooth to it."

Stan hurriedly presses buttons and sweeps the screen, "Done. I'll hit record when you're ready."

"Cool. I'll position the camera. Kenny, can you stand under the precariously-hanging sign for me? Just hold the cue cards up so you're about my height. Remember: If the sign falls, try not to let it kill you. I used nearly half a roll of Duct Tape to make it stay up there."

Kenny walks over and holds the cards up. He looks up at the store logo, which suddenly inches down a bit.

"That's perfect. Okay, Stan, get ready. Kenny, over here."

Kenny and Randy trade places. Randy puts on a big rubber camel head and some sunglasses.

"Three, two, one, action," says Stan."

"Hi," Randy says, followed by a fart. "Oops. There's one for the _cutting_ room floor, if you catch my drift."

"No, thankfully, we're not down wind. Take two in three, two, one … action!" says Stan again.

"Hi, I'm Joe Selfie, for Up Your Selfie, South Park's new premiere source for selfie stick connoisseurs. When you use a selfie stick, it shows you have smooth character. We have every flavor to quench your desire: your basic model, e-selfies, extending models, titanium models, models ribbed for your gripping pleasure, and ones that kind of curve upward around the middle. Not what you're looking for? Try our newest model, assembled in Cuba, shaped like a cigar: the B.J. Clinton. There's something for everyone at Joe Selfie's place. Located in the old trip mall on the outskirts of town," he smiles and waves for a few seconds, then says, "Cut it."

"Done," says Stan.

Kenny lowers the cue cards.

"Was that it?" asks Kyle.

"What – do another take?" Randy asks.

"NO!" they all exclaim in unison.

"Right. I'll take it home, edit it, create some Lorde music for it and send it to the local television station.

"Then we can go home now?" asks Kyle.

"Unless you want a tour of the store now that the stock is in. Oh – you should see the super long Ronn Jeremy model!"

"NO!" three of them all exclaim in unison again.

"Yes," Eric says, the lone voice.

"Well, the door is always open if you change your mind. Mondays through Fridays, nine to five."

"Yeah, ah, maybe another day," says Kyle impatiently.

"Cool, I'll lock up."

They head for the door and exit out through it quickly.

Eric asks Randy a question as Randy locks up, "Mr. Marsh, could I maybe come back with you and talk about the business?"

"Sure, Eric. I like your initiative. You kids could learn something from Eric."

Kyle grows wide eyed and looks furious.

"No, don't," Stan says quietly to Kyle.

.

Eric sits in the passenger seat as Randy drives him back to the shop.

"Interesting. Explain it again," says Randy.

"Basically, if you hired somebody else to be the spokesperson for your shop, you'd have more free time to run it."

"What about Joe Selfie?" Randy asks Eric.

"Easy. I'll put on the mask and some kiddy glasses and become Joe Selfie, Jr. – the mini me of rodders."

"Hey, that's not a bad idea. We could market selfie sticks to kids; a whole un-tapped market. Imagine: If we could get kids to think selfie sticks are cool, we could hook an entire generation who'd then grow up to be regular customers. Brilliant!"

He pulls into the shopping center lot.

Eric then says, "Exactly. I, I mean _we_ , could call them 'Cool sticks'. What kid doesn't want to be cool? Being cool is being hip. Perception over principles."

"Yeah!" says Randy.

Hey exit once he shuts the car off. As thy walk up and Randy flips through his keys, they're approached by a short, obese and balding man in a black suit, carrying a pricey-looking briefcase.

"Randy Marsh?" asks the stranger.

Eric coyly points to Randy.

"Yes?" Randy asks the man.

"I'm a nameless bureaucrat with the South Park governmental bureaucracy. Our records indicate you are the proprietor of Up Your Selfie, correct?"

"Yes, sir. I filed all the appropriate paper work and paid for a local business permit. Everything is in order."

"Not quite. Yesterday the Mayor signed a new ordinance requiring all selfie stick businesses to pay a selfie stick seller fee, which you have not."

"But … I'm the only selfie stick seller in town."

"Sucks to be you," the man chuckles so lowly it's barely audible.

"But I opened this business before yesterday. Can't I be grandfathered out of it?"

"No, we grandfathered you in."

"That's not fair."

"And it's a monthly fee. And you Have before four o'clock tomorrow to pay it or face losing your business license."

"Goddamnit. I guess I'll get online and pay it when I get home."

"You'll be required to settle the debt in person."

"But I'll have to close the shop to do that. I'll lose money."

"And prepare for at least a two-hour wait."

"This is completely unfair. Could you make it any harder?" Randy says sarcastically.

"I'm glad you asked. You'll need to bring: your business license, driver's license, social security card, birth certificate, proof of residence, independently-verified penis size, deed to your house, and a recent arrest record. We'll need at least seven of those."

" **Argh!** "

"Good day," the man walks off.

"Son of a bitch," Randy finds the right key and unlocks the door. When he turns around to lock them back up, he sees another man in a lighter-colored business suite.

"Randy Marsh?"

"Now what?" says Randy, clearly agitated.

"I'm George, the county Tax Collector."

"Hey, I paid my taxes."

"We know. Yesterday the tax office, under suggestion from the Mayor, passed a new tax penalty for every selfie stick sold; ten cents a stick, with the revenue going to local city school for more computers. Retroactive to your first sale at Up Your Selfie."

"Jesus – any other fines, taxes, penalties, or whatever?"

"We'll let you know. You'll have to pay in person before four tomorrow. And you'll need six forms of identification."

"You sure you wouldn't like a vile of my own blood and a retina scan?" Randy says with heavy sarcasm, flinging his arms out.

"We can't legally ask for those yet. I assure you, Mr. Marsh, I'm from the government and we're only here to help," and with that he turns and walks away.

"Empty my wallet…" Randy says in a low sarcastic tone.

Eric runs out the door after the Tax Collector.

"Excuse me, sir."

The man stops and turns around, "Yes?"

"I just wanted to say how much I admire your heartless, cold, and relentless pursuit of government bureaucracy."

"Thank you – it was all my pleasure. And what's your name?"

"Eric."

"Would you be Eric Cartman, who owned that theme park and may owe potential taxes and late fees?"

"Different Eric."

"Ah. Good day."

Eric walks back into the store.

"What did you say to him?" Randy asks.

"I said, ' _Ay now! You leave him alone or I'll kick you in the nuts!_ '."

"Yeah, the nuts. Awesome."


	4. Chapter 4

Eric tosses and turns in bed; he mutters in his sleep.

"No … no … you're a douchebag…"

"Errriiiccc…" a voice calls out.

"Screw you, Kyle…" Eric continues talking in his sleep.

"Errriiiccc…" a voice calls out again.

Eric opens his eyes and sits up, "Huh? Who's there?"

"Meeeee…" the voice calls out to him.

"Where?" he pulls the sheets back and hops out of bed in his pajamas and wild bed head.

"Over here, leaning against the wall next to your door."

Eric walks over, "I don't see you."

"It's me, your rod, Eric."

"Kodak?" Eric comments.

"What's wrong, Eric?"

"Well, you see." Eric picks his selfie stick up.

The selfie stick quickly responds, "Whoa, not so high, Eric – that's my special area."

"Sorry, Kodak," Eric lowers his grip on his selfie stick. "So many people are making it so difficult on me. They call selfie sticks mean names."

"Like what?"

"Douche sticks."

"Yeah, well, they're douche sticks."

"I know. Also, douchebag sticks," Eric adds.

"No, they're douchebags," says Kodak.

"Exactly, Kodak."

"Don't listen to these negative nancies, Eric – they'll spoil out plans."

"No, we wouldn't want that, Kodak."

"Then hold firm and don't let those haters hates."

"I will, Kodak. If that fucking Kyle says anything tomorrow, I'll tell him, 'Ay! Fuck you, you stupid Goddamn Jew!'. That'll shut his hater mouth."

"Oh, Eric, you have such a way with words. Now get back to bed and sleep tight – tomorrow is a new day. And make sure to snap a selfie of that new day."

"Good night, Kodak."

"Sleep tight, Eric."

Eric climbs back into bed and pulls the sheets over himself. He smiles contently.

.

The noon sun shines down on South Park on a breezy Saturday morning. The kids walk around, looking for something to do.

Eric rants angrily, "I can't fucking believe this! First the school banned selfie sticks, then the shopping mart, now the taco place _and_ the library! Total discrimination, right guys? Next thing you know they'll want us to sit in the back of the bus!"

Kyle replies, "Somehow I don't think Rosa Parks' great grandchildren will agree with you."

"Hey – how about the park? We can have all kinds of fun there," Eric then says.

"I guess that will work," says Stan.

Kyle jumps in quickly, "Or we could ditch Eric and go wherever we want."

Eric then rebukes, "Or we could ditch _you_ and make the world a better place. Who's with me?" Eric smiles and waits for others to agree with him, openly displaying – once again – his delusional mind.

Stan speaks up, "Come on, we'll go play on the swings and see who can swing the highest!"

They all dash into the park and straight for the swing set. As Kenny, Kyle, and Stan seat themselves, Eric instead pulls out his selfie stick.

"Hold on so I can take a selfie with you guys," Eric says, pressing the button that makes his selfie stick start extending.

Stan says, "Dude, just make it fast. These are seconds of my life I'll never get back."

"Just a second while I position my rod…"

"You can't do that here," they hear officer Barbrady call out.

They turn their heads to see officer Barbrady walks over.

"Can't do what, officer?" Kyle asks him.

Barbrady responds, "There's no selfie stick use allowed in the park after the recent deaths from their use. Plus I heard some kid is whacking others with one."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" Eric yells.

"No – no douchesticks allowed," Barbrady says to Eric.

Eric then asks him, "Officer Barbrady, if somebody uses a tool to take a better photo, it doesn't make that person a douchebag, does it?"

"I don't know, does a shaved-head husky mall cop with black sunglasses and an extra-large Segway look like a douchebag?"

"Well, yeah," Kyle comments.

Barbrady then says, "Good – I just wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one."

"But what about my question?" Eric insists.

"Oh. So who were you taking a picture of?" Barbrady asks Eric.

"Me."

"Oh. For some special celebration or gathering?"

"No."

"Well, then that's just self-indulgent self-urbation. Only douchebags do that. Oh, is that some kind of discount pony princess stick?" Barbrady says, looking at Eric's jewel-covered and sticker-covered selfie stick.

"Screw you guys – I'm gonna selfie!" Eric raises his selfie stick in defiance.

Barbrady warns him, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," and then removes his black baton from his belt, "Mine may not be as big as yours, but contrary to common knowledge, length is nothing without width. Mine's especially thicker along the end. All the better to beat you into submission with."

"Yeah?! Well, double douchebag on you! Come on guys, let's blow this joint," Eric says angrily.

"And I suppose you have something better to do?" Stan asks Eric.

"I do. How would you guys like to make three dollars?"

"Each?" Kyle asks Eric.

"Yes," Eric retorts, perturbed Kyle caught him so quickly.

"How?" asks Kenny.

.

Cut to sometime later. The boys walk into Up Your Selfie.

"Oh, hey, boys – you ready for that tour?" Randy asks them.

"Maybe later, dad," Stan answers.

"Oh, too bad. We got this long black one we call the Shaft. It'll do the job, damn straight."

"Mr. Marsh, I'm ready to film a Joe Selfie, Jr. commercial," says Eric.

"Fantastic! I'll just set up the phone…"

"I'll handle that – I brought helpers; Kenny will hold up the cue cards, Stan will film it, and Kyle will count his money so he can practice being a banker on day. And I'll ad lib off the cards."

"Well, here's the mask," Randy reaches under the counter and brings it out, "but you Boys better make it quick – Sharon is stopping by any time now to see how the business has been going."

"Impending nuclear meltdown…" says Kyle.

Eric starts giving orders, "Stan, get ready," he then pulls the mask over his head and puts on glasses that look like Kyle's counsin's glasses, Kyle Schwartz, "it's mini selfie time…"

With Randy's phone, Stan climbs atop a step stool and secures the phone onto the tripod. He then gets Eric into frame.

Stan says to Eric, "Remember – the camera adds thirty or forty pounds, so try sucking your fat gut in so we don't have to do a theatrical widescreen."

"Ay!"

"Ready?" Stan asks.

"Ready."

"Recording in three … two … one … action!"

"Hi, I'm Joe Selfie junior. While my dad is making sure you Up Your Selfie, I help out making sure folks know about smooth character awareness. Who doesn't like to be cool? NAZI's, that's who. And 'what makes you cool? Selfie sticks! Gripping a selfie stick is like gripping a rainbow. And here at Up Your Selfie, we have a store full of rainbows. Red for the sore hand you will have from handling your rod; green for how envious your friends will be; yellow for the cowards who be hatin'; blue for the skies of joy; orange for orange; and purple for those of you who may have _other_ ideas for your rod. So let your mom know you're not a NAZI and want her to buy you a cool stick from Up Your Selfie," he puts the palms of his hands out and waves them as he sings a little jingle, "Selfie sticks, selfie sticks, don't be a bunch of stupid redneck hicks. Don't be lame bro, hold a rainbow. Show the paparazzi, you're not a NAZI, with your selfie stick, selfie stick, if you get one you might become filthy rich. Up Your Selfie!" he raises his selfie stick up high like He-Man raising his sword.

"Cutting," Stan says, stopping recording.

Randy says to Eric, "Hey, that was great. Not sure about the NAZI part, but it was great."

"That's nothing. With some special effects there will be rainbows, fireworks and a unicorn! We're gonna crank this awesome up to eleven."

"Now that's cool. Here's your fifty bucks," Randy says to Eric, pulling out a couple of twenty-dollar bills and a ten.

"Could you break that ten into ones?" Eric asks him.

"Sure," Randy says and opens the cash register and does so. He hands Eric the cash.

"Thanks," Eric says to him.

"No, thank you."

"Here you go, Kyle," handing Kyle nine dollar bills, "Please feel free to count it."

"Go selfie yourself," Kyle says, snatching the cash angrily from Eric's hand.

Sharon walks in.

"Sharon, honey – glad you're here," Randy says to her, walking toward her.

"Randy. So, it's been a little over a week now and I wanted to see how the business was doing."

"Oh, I've sold quite a few of them."

"So, who is the consumer base so far?" she grills him.

"Ah, well, there's adults over twenty-one, though half of them have been struck by lightning in recent days. Oh, but there's also kids."

"So, half your potential repeat consumer base is dead and the rest is made of little kids with no expendable income?"

"Yeah, but we're advertising, too. My first commercial aired yesterday and I just paid the kids to film another."

"So, how many people saw the commercial?" she asks.

"Well, no one so far."

"Nobody saw your commercial? In a town with only one local channel? And you're already in the hole for a second commercial that won't air for at least a day?"

"It takes money to make money, Sharon."

"And how much money have you spent?"

"Let's see," Randy counts on his fingers, "There's the leasing cost, stock cost, business permit cost, some office supplies, a selfie stick vendor license, various Federal government compliance costs, a landline for the business, a sign, cleaning, utilities, garbage, sewage, and a second commercial, probably some other things as well, that's probably six thousand."

"And how much money have you made?" Sharon continues grilling him.

"Four-hundred and fifty dollars. Minus a dollar for selfie stick taxes and minus the one-time fifty-dollar selfie stick vendor license purchase, so about four-hundred dollars. Oh, and minus fifty for the new commercial, so about three hundred and fifty dollars."

"So you're in the hole over five-thousand and five-hundred dollars?"

"Sharon, you're so narrow minded. Colonel Sanders used to sell chicken out of his trunk before KFC. His wife probably nagged him, too."

"Okay, then tell me: How many people will need more than one selfie stick ad what is the town's population?"

"Ooohhh, I see what you're saying," says Randy.

"Good," Sharon retorts.

"I need to pay for a website to expand out of South Park."

" _ **NO!**_ " Sharon bellows angrily.

"I could raise the prices."

"Randy, I looked online – sales of selfie sticks were _down_ by 50% last year!"

"Honey, what are you saying?"

" _Close the damn store! We don't need a fourth mortgage!_ "

"Ew, tasty drama," says Eric.

"Children, you better head on home. Randy and I are going to have a little talk."

"Oh, man, another talk?" Randy says, annoyed and folding his arms.

"See you at home," Says Stan.

"Dinner's in the over," Sharon says to Stan.

"Thanks, mom."

They exit the shop. After a few feet Eric stops and shakes. The others notice Erich as fallen behind and turn to look at him.

Eric drops to his knees and yells, " _ **NNNNNOOOOO!**_ "

"What now, Cartman?" Kyle asks.

"You were right, Kyle – I was using the selfie stick."

"I knew it! I'm a little surprised you fessed up, though," says Kyle.

"So, what evil plan was it this time?" Stan asks Eric.

Eric answers, "Guys, you ever seen that Squatty Potty commercial? It's got ice cream, unicorns, children, and it's nothing more than a mediocre song about unicorn poop to help sell Squatty Potties, yet it's gotten millions of views. Millions! I figured, put a stupid mask on, talk about rainbows and unicorns, do a little song and splash some Adobe After Effects on it and I'd be a millionaire! There are no toilets in it, but if you can profit off a commercial with kids eating unicorn poop, why can't I? It was so simple, yet genius. Was that really too much to ask?"

"Actually, that may be the least evil plan you've ever had. No abortions, no parent cooking, just a commercial," says Stan.

"I guess I do kind of feel bad for you this time, Eric. It may not have been hard work but at least it was honest," says Kyle.

Eric adds, "I would have eaten real horse poop for a million dollars."

"Don't … don't ruin it," says Kyle.

"Maybe next time, dude," Kenny moves over and puts a hand on one of Eric's shoulders.

They continue home.

.

Monday afternoon, during recess. The boys pick a spot on the playground. Eric pulls his selfie stick out of a pocket and looks at it; he sighs.

"You okay, Cartman?" Stan asks him.

"You know what, guys? I am. 'cause I realized something; if LP's never really went away and are making niche comebacks, then one day the selfie stick shall rise again!" he presses the button and his selfie stick slowly extends.

His look of triumph dissipates when he sees a small quad drone hover down to him at face level.

"What's that?" Eric asks.

Kyle walks over, controlling the drone with his iPhone, "It's a selfie drone. People are ditching the douchesticks for drones."

Eric's yes widen and a look at fear and shock cross his face. The selfie drone takes a picture.

Kyle says, "I'll tag this 'disillusionment'."

.

Later during the night. Eric clears items out of his closet until he sees the back wall. He pulls his selfie stick out of his book bag.

"Sorry, Kodak, but I got to do it alone," he reaches in to lay it down.

"Eric … if you ever need me…"

"I know, Kodak."

"…to take a picture, or as a murder weapon to beat Kyle to death with … if you ever need me…"

"Thanks," Eric lays it down and starts pilling items back into the closet, covering Kodak.

Kodak speaks again, "And if you should ever get bored…"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, now shut the fuck up so I can go to sleep," he finishes and slams the doors shut. "Jesus."

 **-THE END-**


End file.
